


The Wait In Between

by AlexKingOfTheDamned, writerchick0214



Series: Shieldhawk Stuff and Things [1]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Awkward Sexual Situations, Body Image, Comfort/Angst, F/M, Genderswap, Pegging, Porn-With-A-Little-Plot, Self Confidence Issues, Self Harm (mild)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-26
Updated: 2013-08-26
Packaged: 2017-12-24 16:37:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/942168
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlexKingOfTheDamned/pseuds/AlexKingOfTheDamned, https://archiveofourown.org/users/writerchick0214/pseuds/writerchick0214
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Loki turns Steve into a woman, he meant for it to cause his marriage to Clint to fall apart, and once that happened, he'd be so distraught that he wouldn't be able to lead the team anymore and the Avengers would fall apart. What Loki didn't count on is that Clint is much more open-minded than he thought.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Wait In Between

The apartment is dark when Clint comes home. Which is weird, considering Steve said he'd (she'd, he's got to get used to that) be home at 7, and it's currently 9, a full hour before Clint said he'd be home. Steve should be here. Clint sighs and tosses his bag onto the kitchen table, but then he sees the mail on the table and he knows that Steve is here after all. Maybe he (she, dammit) is napping? He’s had an extremely hard time with pronouns ever since Loki spelled his husband Steve into a woman in an effort to make his marriage fall apart and eventually, the team. So far no luck, but if things keep going as they’ve been going the past few weeks, who knows. Steve’s been getting progressively more distant, and Clint’s been having a harder time looking at her because she’s just so… different.

 

Clint crosses the living room and sees a very, very faint glow around the corner. With a peek, he sees that the only light on in the entire apartment is shining from underneath the bathroom door in their shared bedroom.

 

Steve doesn't hear Clint come in. She's much too involved in front of the floor-length mirror beside the sink. She's completely naked, the clothing she used to wear as a man discarded in a pile on the rug. It doesn't fit her right, but she refuses to acknowledge the fact that she might be stuck like this forever by buying women’s clothes. She's got a razor on the sink just in case, but she doubts she'll pick it up. It was just a thought at the time in case she got over it, but it still frightens her now. Instead she's standing in front of the mirror, looking herself over.

 

Breasts. She hates them. She's never hated breasts before until they became a part of her own body. She lifts them, heavy and round, and hates them more. Her nipples are much bigger than they were when she was a man, and she hates those, too. Her hips slope away from her defined waist, and the only thing that still looks the same is the muscle packed onto her body. She looks up at her face. It's thinner, and her eyelashes are longer and her jaw more sloped, but she still looks the same as she did when she was a man. She misses her male body. It's not as though she hates women. She just doesn't want to be one.

 

Namely because the man she married as a man is gay.

 

She pinches the flesh of her breast. Hard. It hurts, and there's a red mark, and somehow that brings her pleasure. She's already sick of this, and it's been less than a month. She feels the need to punish the parts of her body that don't belong, and so she continues to pinch herself purple. It's a little immature, maybe, but Steve isn't quite ready for the level of permanent commitment that scars bring, so the razor stays on the sink.

 

Clint watches his husband – no, wife – stare at herself in front of the mirror, observing her body with disgust. He doesn't know what to say so he stays silent for a moment, growing more depressed by the second. While he appreciated a man's body more than a woman's, this was the man-woman-he loved, and Clint was growing more accustomed to her curves.

 

"Stop," Clint gasps suddenly, gripping the door frame tightly.

 

Steve's eyes snap up and she whirls around, catching Clint's eye. Shame washes over her, and she knows she's covered in forming bruises, so she drops her head. She can't bother to hide them. Especially not if Clint already saw her doing it. "You're home early," is all she can mutter.

 

What are you _doing?_ " Clint asks, taking a step forward.

 

Steve moves back as much as she can, covering her body as best she can with her arms. Clint stops and drops his arms, gazing at his wife sadly. "I'm... I'm just..." she can't come up with a single good lie. "Pinching myself," she sighs. She can't lie to Clint.

 

"But _why?_ " Clint begs, moving again.

 

Steve doesn't move this time, but she looks away from him. Clint reaches out and touches her bare shoulder tentatively. "I don't know," oh, maybe she can lie. She looks down hard at her toes.

 

"Don't- Jesus, Steve, stop hurting yourself." Clint suddenly feels like he's going to cry.

 

Steve presses her back against the mirror and closes her eyes, like Clint will go away if she can't see him. "It doesn't really hurt that bad," she mutters. "Supersoldier and all that."

 

"It doesn't matter!" Clint yells. "It doesn't matter if it doesn't hurt a lot, or that the marks are already healing. You're still hurting yourself and that's not ok with me."

 

Steve looks up at Clint's eyes, but she keeps them unfocused so she doesn't really have to see them. "I'm... fine. I'll be fine."

 

Clint sighs, picking up a towel so he can drape it over Steve's naked body. This seems to help her relax a little. "I know this is hard for you, but you're alive and we're together... and that's what matters."

 

"That's easier for you to say," Steve clutches the edges of the towel and pulls them tighter around her body.

 

"You think this is easy for me?" Clint says, backing up as though Steve had slapped him.

 

"I think it's significantly easier," Steve mutters. "I don't think you're happy, but I also don't think you have any idea what this is like. I honestly don't think anybody does."

 

"I mean, of course I don't know what you're going through," Clint says. He doesn't know what to say to make things better. "But I love you, and you love me... so I think we can make this work."

 

"I don't think so," Steve leans back against the mirror again. "I can't help but feel... every single day I feel like you're getting closer to losing your patience with me. Every single day I feel like we're one step nearer to you backing out because... of my body. This new body - I hate it. I just hate it."

 

Clint winces, knowing Steve is right. He's been avoiding touching Steve as much as possible, mostly because he has no idea what to do with a woman's body. He knows the basics, knows the technical aspects, but he's only kissed a girl once and that was when he was 13.

 

"I'm sorry," Clint says, "I am so sorry. This is- this is my fault. I didn't mean to make you feel like I was shutting you out. I just don't know what to DO."

 

"It's not your fault. This is all Loki's fault. If we could just CATCH him again, we could find a way to make him change me back. He's just so goddamn slippery!" Steve sinks down against the mirror until she's crouched on the floor. "I haven't felt this vulnerable in a really long time. I didn't even feel like this when I was skinny and nobody would let me in the army. And now I'm 220 pounds stronger and I feel weaker than ever. I’m coming to terms with the fact that women are treated so poorly even in this day and age. Nobody takes me seriously anymore, even though I’m still the same man on the inside, just because I have breasts and ovaries now nobody thinks I can do anything! Stark thinks I’m laughable, Thor’s suddenly started treating me like I need his protection all the time… I can’t keep doing this."

 

Clint drops to his knees in front of her, and cups her chin. Steve looks basically the same, only with softer features, and his heart melts when he realizes he can still see _Steve_. They're staring at each other for a long moment when Clint leans in hesitantly, and waits a millisecond before brushing their lips together. The kiss is soft, slow, and Clint can't help but notice how different Steve's lips are now. Bigger, and a little bit softer, and a lot more hesitant.

 

Tears roll down Steve's cheeks in a way that they haven't in years. She fucking _whimpers_ , as undignified as that is. Her nose clogs a little and she knows she's a mess, but Clint is still kissing her even if she's gross and he’s gay and she’s a woman, so 10 points. She clutches the front of his shirt like it'll keep her alive and just hopes that he won’t cut it off too soon because she's not the same man he married.

 

Clint almost falls over when Steve pulls his shirt, but he steadies himself with a hand on the mirror. His knees ache, the kneeling position on the cold tiled floor a little too much, but he doesn't move from his spot. Clint kisses Steve a little harder, bringing their bodies closer. When Steve's towel-clad breasts press up against his chest he's startled at first even though he knew they were there, and he almost recoils. Managing to stop himself just in time, Clint wraps an arm around Steve's back.

 

Steve breaks the kiss now, though, to press her face to Clint's neck, and she's shivering with her bare thighs on the cold tile, and sniffling like a child. "You don't - have to force anything," she says, trying to keep her voice steady.

 

Clint doesn't say anything, just pulls Steve into another kiss. The towel falls away but Clint doesn't do anything else, not wanting to scare Steve. He leaves the next move to Steve.

 

Steve doesn’t even think anymore. She throws her arms around his neck and pulls him closer. She feels her breasts squish between them, but Clint doesn’t seem to react so she chooses not to as well, for the time being.

 

She feels a localized sort of throbbing between her legs and for a split second she panics, but then she thinks that this is probably the female equivalent of an erection. Her “equipment” so to speak is a lot different this time around, and maybe this is what happens to girls. She whimpers again and opens her lips a little wider for Clint’s tongue, her hips canting forward against her own will as soon as she finds it.

 

Clint's knees begin the ache, the tile growing more uncomfortable by the second, but Steve's breasts pressed against his own chests distracts him. They're soft, much softer than Steve's pectorals usually are, and feel so different he momentarily forgets that it IS Steve in his arms. He had expected it to feel different, more off-putting, and even though Clint still isn't fully hard, Steve still tastes the same and smells the same, and it's then that Clint thinks that might be enough. The towel falls to the floor and Clint allows one hand to roam down Steve's back.

 

Steve's body has more curves than it used to, but Clint is happy to feel firm muscle under his finger tips, feel the strength Steve still posseses. Clint doesn't press on any more, allowing Steve to curl around his body, letting her take the lead.

 

She gasps into his mouth, and pushes forward hard enough that Clint falls backwards. He catches himself on one hand, but she pushes again and he’s flat on his back on the cool tile before he can blink, and she’s straddling him.

 

“Oh man,” she gasps, leaning over him. Her face is red and she covers her heavy, hanging breasts with one forearm as best she can. She looks down and she sees Clint, the man she fell in love with and married, in the same sort of position she saw him so often. Flushed and exposed and on his back. But the thought of what she must look like over him, so different, has her pink with shame.

 

Clint reaches up on instinct, fitting his hands around Steve's hips. Her frame has a hint of an hourglass shape to it despite the muscle mass, and his hands don't fit the way they used to. However, Steve's weight above him is almost the same, and that's more comforting than Clint could have ever imagined. He's still fully dressed, but he feels himself growing a little more aroused, pushing up against Steve experimentally. It's strange to see nothing between Steve's legs and he wants to touch, but isn't sure what to do no matter how many times he's looked at porn since Steve was turned.

 

Instead, he reaches up and threads his hands into her longer hair, the length tangling between his fingers. Her flush is still the same and Clint can't help but grin at it, pulling her down for another kiss. Steve keeps her arm across her chest, elbow digging painfully into Clint's ribs, so he tugs at it. When Steve refuses to budge he pulls back, gazing questioning at her.

 

She traps her lip between her teeth. “I don’t want to make you uncomfortable,” she whispers. “I’m… scared that you’ll come to your senses and walk away.”

 

"Let's go to the bedroom," Clint says, motioning to the door.

 

Steve looks alarmed for a moment but stands, once against covering herself with the towel. It's too small, of course, considering her height hasn't changed since the transformation, but it seems to comfort her. It's dark in the room so Clint goes to turn on the light but stops when Steve makes a pained noise.

 

"Ok," Clint says, looking around for a lighter. "It's alright, babe, I won't turn the light on."

 

Clint sets about lighting a few candles, moving them so the glow in the room centers around the bed, bathing it in delicate light. Steve moves while he has his back turned, dropping the towel and slipping under the covers. When Clint turns again he gasps a little, taking in the sight before him. Steve's hair is draped over her shoulders, glowing gold in the candlelight, and she looks alluring with the comforter pulled up to her armpits.

 

“Are you… I mean, is this okay?” she asks softly, tugging a little bit at the top of the cover as if she means to pull it up over her head.

 

"More than okay," Clint says, trying to sound reassuring.

 

He crawls on top of the covers to hover over Steve, still fully clothed, and leans in slowly for a kiss. It's soft again, the heat from the previous moment gone for now, and it feels like they're starting over from the beginning.

 

Her palms find either side of Clint’s neck, and her fingers might be thinner than before but her hands are relatively the same size. That brings Clint comfort. She spreads her legs under the covers so he can fit himself between them. This feels safe, with the blanket between them, Steve feels like she has the confidence to kiss him as though she was still the man he married.

 

Clint’s still the same man, she reasons. One hand leaves Clint’s neck to dive sharply and without warning between his legs. She’s comforted to feel he’s half-hard in her palm even through his jeans. Maybe this isn’t hopeless after all.

 

Clint grunts against Steve's lips, her palm different but similar at the same time. He tries to ignore how her palm is a little smaller and how her fingers are thinner and focus on the fact that she's cupping his half erect dick. It feels good but it also feels - wrong isn't the right word, but nothing else comes to mind. For a fleeting second Clint thinks it kind of feels like he's cheating on Steve, which is silly, he knows, because this IS Steve.

 

So Clint rocks against the hand, trying to gain enough friction for it to REALLY start feeling good. He braces himself on one and brings the other to cup Steve's jaw, still strong and familiar in his palm.

 

Steve’s never known pleasure greater than the kind that comes with pleasing Clint, so when he starts to move against her, the pulsing is back between her legs. She doesn’t know what to do with it at first – it’s so different from her usual signs of arousal – but then she realizes that she’s not some kind of alien, she’s a woman. And Steve isn’t as oblivious about how to please a woman as most people think.

 

She pulls her other hand from the side of Clint’s neck and slips it beneath the covers. She’s a little startled at first when she makes it down between her legs and the anatomy is so obviously different, but this is what she’s got to work with for now and darn it she’s Captain America. If she can fight aliens then she can masturbate.

 

She gasps as she makes contact with her own slippery folds, her hips jerking up to the touch immediately and she nips gently at Clint’s lower lip in her haze of pleasure.

 

Clint jerks away when Steve gasps, thinking he may have hurt her or made her uncomfortable. He looks down to see Steve's hand moving under the covers and it takes a second to realize what she's doing. When he does, Clint can't help but blush, feeling ridiculously like a teenager. He's seen a woman naked before-hell, he and Natasha have been naked in front of each other more times than he can count-but he's never touched a woman in his life. Clint pulls back more, leaning up on his knees to watch Steve for a moment.

 

With Clint officially out of range of her hand, it falls to the covers and Steve turns her head to the side in embarrassment. She knows he’s watching her because of what she’s doing, but his eyes focused on her so intently makes her want to stop. But maybe this is what it’ll take to get him comfortable with her, so she traces her unseen fingers up her hidden wetness and gives a gentle moan through her nose.

 

Clint swallows audibly and he can't decide if he's feeling more nervous or excited at this point. He reaches out carefully, taking hold of the edge of the covers, and gazes at Steve in a silent question.

 

If he wants to see her, one of two things will happen. He’ll either fall in love with her body all over again because as he insists he loves _Steve_ not her body… or he’ll run screaming into the night because he’s told her he’s gay, never been with a woman, and never wanted to be.

 

“Alright,” she whispers, and although she doesn’t move her hand, she closes her thighs around it so she’s hidden from him.

 

Clint pulls the blankets back, revealing Steve's body inch by inch. Steve's skin is still the same color, same complexion, and still as smooth and hairless as ever. Without thinking, Clint leans down to lick Steve's collarbone, which is more pronounced now but still as delectable as ever. He's not sure what to do with his hands, so he keeps them bunched in the sheets below, nosing his way up Steve's neck and jaw, stopping to kiss her again.

 

She wants to open her legs to him, but she’s still afraid. One hand still planted between her thighs, she grips Clint’s shirt with the other one. “Take this off,” she says breathlessly, and Clint doesn’t hesitate for a second.

 

She traces her palm flat down his body, and then experimentally, she turns her wrist, arches her hand up so it’s just her fingertips on Clint’s body, and drags her nails up past his abdominals. Her fingernails are longer on her fingers as a result of Loki’s spell, and she raises little red trails along behind them as she rakes them up Clint’s body, catching his nipple with her pinky nail as she goes.

 

Clint moans for the first time that evening, unable to help himself when he feels her nails. He loves when Steve does that, and her longer nails only add to the experience. He asks her to do it again and she does, this time stopping to pinch and tweak the same nipple. He surges forward, bringing their bodies together and feels her breasts against his skin, soft and different but not necessarily unpleasant. They push against his pecs, warm but not solid the way he's used to.

 

She pulls her hand out from between her legs and they open without her even thinking about it. Her toes curl and she rakes both hands up Clint’s back, sighing with pleasure as he arches his back like a cat to her touch. When his shoulders arc up, his hips bear down to compensate, and the pressure is directly between her legs.

 

“Ohh,” she moans, rocking her hips down against him, her neck lengthening as her head tips back. She sucks her lower lip into her mouth to keep from making any embarrassing noises.

 

Clint's breath is coming in pants now and he has to breathe deeply more than once to gather his nerves. With a hand that is _definitely not_ shaking, he trails his fingers up Steve's leg, bending it at the knee so he can cup under her thigh. They kiss, tongues tangling and messy and closer to the way they used to be for the first time that night. He moans when her nails rake down his back again and closes his eyes when her hands hesitate for just a moment before grabbing hold of his ass. Even through his jeans Clint can feel the heat of her hands and he pushes back against it, the sensation familiar and normal.

 

Steve’s eyes suddenly snap open and she pushes him at the shoulder with one hand, the other still cupping his ass. She looks like she’s achieved nirvana-like enlightenment.

 

“I can finger you,” she says suddenly. “My body may have changed, but yours hasn’t. Even as a woman I still have fingers.”

 

Clint gulps, blinking to clear his head. "Yeah?" he asks, licking his lips.

 

 “I’d like to, ah, trim my nails first, though,” she says. “They’re kind of long right now.”

 

"You want to trim your nails?" Clint asks, pulling back again. "Right now?"

 

“I know it sounds dumb but I don’t want to hurt you,” Steve kisses Clint. “I swear it won’t take long.”

 

Clint did eventually come from Steve’s fingers, but it took a little longer that usual. He even flagged once, much to his embarrassment, and Steve had to suck him off at the same time in order to bring him back up. It took almost forty minutes, and the orgasm at the end wasn’t as intense as it usually was.

 

Steve insisted that this was a good thing, though. They could find new ways to work with this in between trying to find Loki and reverse the spell.

 

From fingers, Steve started using dildos. They never had one because they never really needed one between the two of them having dicks of their own. She buys a simple black latex cock and Clint is a lot more receptive to that. It’s not as big as Steve was, but he energetically pushes his hips down onto it right up to its fake balls, and that’s a lot more than she got when she was using her fingers. He came in twenty minutes. Steve’s wrist got sore, but Clint’s expression was beautiful.

 

How about a vibrator? She bought one a few days later, and he came in fifteen, howling. She even used it on herself in the bathroom early in the morning when she thought he was still asleep. Her little moans woke him up and he knelt beside her and kissed her neck while she held the vibrating thing against her clit while sitting on the edge of the bath tub.

 

It sort of works. It’s nothing like the explosive orgasms that Steve could coax out of Clint nightly with the cock she used to have, but Clint’s definitely pleased at the very least.

 

That’s when she learns about strap-ons and pegging. It was sort of an accidental google search, and following a link to another to another she wound up on an article about women who wear dildos on harnesses to have anal sex with another woman, or even a man. This piques her interest instantly.

 

She learns about all the different kinds. There are dildos that are made to look exactly like penises, but some of them are in weird colors and ribbed. Some of them are all black, some of them are latex and some of them are plastic. Some of them even come with straps that go down the middle that vibrate to give the woman using it pleasure, too.

 

If there was ever anything worth spending a lot of money for in Steve’s life, it was this. Custom-ordered to fit the dimensions of the dick she used to have as closely as she can remember, hand-dyed sillicone to look like the penis Clint used to worship, and with one of those straps down the middle because being a woman now doesn’t mean she doesn’t deserve pleasure, too. If Clint is still too scared to give it to her, then she’ll get it herself.

 

It arrives at her doorstep within the week, and Clint doesn’t understand why she scrambles to jerk the package out of his hand when he tells her there’s a package for her. She disappears into the bathroom and he shakes his head with a laugh.

 

It’s not until the next day that she debuts it. She wanted to give herself plenty of time to check it out and make sure it fit good, but turns out all those measurements the site asked her for were for a good reason, because the straps fit her so snugly that the dick hardly moves no matter how she tugs on it.

 

She inspects herself in the floor-length mirror beside the sink – this time she remembered to lock the door – and she’s impressed with how closely it resembles the cock she used to have. She experiments with the weight and girth of it, and thinks that Clint will definitely enjoy this, even if it’s not as hot as Steve’s dick was.

 

She doesn’t waste any time. Clint’s going to be home any minute from a long mission. She puts on the harness and takes it off several times before finally deciding the shock will be good for them and leaves it on. She sits on the couch, stands up, leans against the kitchen table, moves to the bedroom, and then finally settles against the door frame that leads from the front hall/kitchen to the living room. At the very last second she grabbed the brown leather bomber’s jacket she never really stopped wearing even after turning into a woman that she knows Clint loves so much, and throws it over her naked body. In a split-second moment of inspiration, she also grabs her brown leather boots that Clint gracelessly nicknamed ‘the shit-kickers’ and laces them up on her feet.

 

The moment of truth. She crosses her arms as she hears the keys jingling as they open the front door to their home.

 

"Steve?" Clint calls, walking into their apartment.

 

When he rounds the corner he stops, mouth dropping open. Steve is standing in the doorway wearing nothing but a bomber jacket, THE jacket, and Clint's mouth instantly begins to water. His eyes roam from the top of Steve's head and slowly down, appreciating the way her breasts look framed by the supple brown leather. Her navel looks enticing and Clint wants to lick it, but then his gaze stops on- a strap on?

 

"Holy shit," Clint whispers, dropping his duffle bag.

 

“I thought you might like it,” Steve traces her fingers up the underside so that Clint can watch the way it bobs when the pressure of her fingertips leave it. She notices his eyes roam down her legs to her boots before snapping back up.

 

Clint licks his lips, feeling his entire body heat up. His pants already feel a little tight and he has to take a deep breath before he can talk.

 

"Wow. Yeah. Babe you look... shit, you look good." And he means it.

 

Clint's eyes are instantly drawn back to the slight curve of the dick in Steve's hand, the way it fits in her palm and bobs just so. It looks almost exactly like Clint remembers and he wants to have it in his mouth, fill his throat and stretch his jaw wide. He misses sucking Steve off, the heavy weight against his tongue. It won’t taste the same, Clint realizes logically, but he doesn't care.

 

Steve seems to relax a little and continues to pump the strap on as though it were a real cock, her body flushing. Clint is confused by his arousal, turned on by the way Steve's curves and breasts look against the hard lines of muscle and the thick cock. It doesn't make any sense, but Clint doesn't care because he's hard and aching in a way he hasn't felt since before Steve was changed.

 

Steve licks her lips and widens her stance against the door frame.

 

“Are you just going to stand there and stare at it, or do you want to suck it?” she challenges. It feels very different talking like that after the vast changes to her body, as though being a woman somehow means she has to be demure. But if the references she looked up for this sort of thing were any indication, the women overpowered the men they used the strap-on for, so she doesn’t need to change anything. It took her long enough to build up the courage to talk like that when she was a man after learning that Clint loved it so much, and she didn’t want to take the time to re-learn all of that.

 

"Fuck," Clint says, throat dry.

 

He moves quickly, not evening bothering to shrug out of his leather jacket. He drops to his knees in front of Steve so fast the impact hurts but he ignores it, nosing at the silicone happily. It doesn't smell musky like Steve used to but he doesn't care. Reaching up, Clint grabs hold of Steve's hip with one hand and grips the base of the dildo with the other, holding it to his lips. Taking a deep breath Clint swallows the whole thing down in one go, gagging and getting saliva everywhere but he moans, feeling dizzy with need.

 

The movement of Clint’s mouth on the strap-on rubs the band against Steve’s clit, so the moan she gives is real. She might have to be a little rougher to get off, but she doesn’t think Clint will mind.

 

She grips his hair and grinds deep into his throat so that the strap pulses against her, and finally she has the wherewithal to reach under Clint’s chin and flip the switch that sends the strap buzzing.

 

Her weight leaned more fully against the door frame, she uses her super soldier strength in the way that Clint loves, gripping him hard by the back of the neck and keeping him in place while she rides into his throat.

 

Clint moans around the dildo, pushing back against the hand on his neck, trying to slurp at the spit leaking out of the corners of his mouth. Steve's moaning is only turning him on more because he knows that during their previous sexual encounters she hadn't been getting much pleasure. The heaviness of the cock in his mouth is almost too much to handle and he's amazed by how much he missed it. Clint reaches up to bring one of Steve's hands to his throat so she can feel the dildo sliding in and out with her fingers.

 

Clint swallows around it, loving the way he gags on it, remembering the way Steve had loved it. Even though she can no longer physically feel the sensation, Clint is hoping just knowing what he's doing will be enough for her. Feeling brave, Clint reaches up as high as he can and cups one of Steve's breasts, holding it firmly for the first time.

 

“Oh God!” she shouts, her head thunking back loudly against the wooden door frame. Her legs feel weak so she plants them more firmly, pleasure rocketing through her body from the contact to her chest. It’s so different from the few times she lifted and felt her breasts to get an idea what they were like, it’s out of her own control, and the pressure of Clint’s big hand is heavenly.

 

She suddenly pulls out of his mouth, and the whimper that leaves him is filthy. She pulls on his neck until he’s kneeling with his back against the doorframe, and she pushes the cock back into his mouth. He accepts it without hesitation, and when she proceeds to hold him there by the throat so she can feel more clearly the slow drive of the length down his throat, his eyes roll back.

 

“This is what you’ve wanted?” she licks her lips and her voice is laced with a growl. She already knows the answer and besides that Clint can’t even reply, but she continues anyway. “This is what you’ve missed so much? I’ve missed it too. You hardly ever look better than like this.”

 

Clint's heart is thudding so hard in his chest it's verging on the edge of painful, breathe coming in sharp gasps through his nose. He squeezes Steve's breast experimentally, sighing when Steve moans. Finally he is able to bring her some pleasure. Clint wonders in the back of his head if Steve's nipples are more sensitive in her female form so he rolls one between his fingers.

 

She falters in an instant, her forehead hitting the doorframe and her hand slipping a fraction from Clint’s throat. She can’t even bring herself to make noise. Her mouth is open and her eyes are closed and her brows are furrowed, but not a sound escapes her.

 

When Steve moves again the dildo slides even farther down Clint's throat and he gags, making a noise that should have been embarrassing but he's too turned on to even care. He pinches Steve's nipple again, harder this time, and flushes when Steve moans.

 

“Gosh, you really are hungry for it tonight,” Steve moans, lifting one booted foot to grind the sole between Clint’s jean-clad thighs. “I’d bet I could get you to come just from this.”

 

Clint jolts, pushing against the boot to gain more friction. He groans and sucks the dildo harder, cupping both of Steve's breasts now. He feels like his skin is too tight, too hot- like he's going to burst. Steve is right, she probably could make him come exactly how they are right now.

 

“But I won’t,” she says suddenly, and pulls out of Clint’s mouth. The desperate noise that Clint makes is music to her ears. This is really what she misses – being able to make her husband fall apart. “The only question that remains is bed, couch, or kitchen counter?”

 

Clint is panting, his chest heaving, and he can't seem to get his thoughts straight. He gazes up at Steve through half-lidded eyes, hungrily taking in her body. He tries to speak but nothing comes out so he just digs the palm of his hand against his erection.

 

The boot is back, trapping Clint’s palm against his dick. “Answer me, please,” she says. Her words are polite but her tone burns.

 

Clint makes a strangled noise, squeezing his eyes shut. "Fuck. The-the bed," he finally manages, picking at random.

 

“Are you going to walk there or do you want to crawl?” she asks, and this time it’s turned around. Her tone is sweet, but her words are so suggestive they settle in Clint’s gut and twist around.

 

Clint's head is buzzing and he has to swipe a hand down his face. "Whatever you want," he replies, because just can't _think_ at the moment.

 

Steve falters for a second because she was hoping Clint would stand. She doesn’t actually want to humiliate him by making him crawl, but at the same time she doesn’t want to break the flow of this by telling him to stand up.

 

 _Quick,_ she tells herself, _be clever_.

 

“Well, you’re going to have a hard time getting undressed on the way there if you’re crawling, and I want you naked by the time you get to the bed,” she says, proud of her ability to remain commanding.

 

Clint stands quickly, stripping out of his jacket and shirt before Steve can even finish her sentence. Not able to resist, Clint crowds Steve against the wall, reaching up on his tiptoes for a heated kiss. It's mostly tongue and teeth but Clint moans anyways, rubbing against the sillicone cock trapped against his belly. Steve's breasts are trapped between them, her nipples hard, dragging against the sparse hair on Clint's chest.

 

She pushes at his chest until he starts to walk backwards, catching him when he stumbles trying to get out of his jeans. Before he knows it he’s being pushed down over the bed and Steve is over him.

 

She grinds the fake cock against his belly, groaning when the motion presses the pulsating strap tighter against her clit. She kisses his neck and lets the jacket frame Clint’s body as she does so, giving him something to grapple to as he struggles with staying afloat under his own daunting lust.

 

“You’re so beautiful like this,” she whispers, pausing to throw her wavy golden hair over her shoulder so it doesn’t get caught in Clint’s mouth while he moans. She wraps her hand around Clint’s cock and pulls at it while nibbling his ear. “I missed you like this.”

 

Clint wraps his arms around Steve under the jacket, pulling her body close to his. One of his hands finds her ass and pulls, rubbing the dildo against his body and hopefully stimulating her clit. As much as he's enjoying himself, he wants to ensure Steve's pleasure as well. Clint cranes his neck to capture Steve's lips in a kiss, biting at her lips harshly.

 

"Fuck - Steve, babe, I love you. Holy shit."

 

Clint brushes his fingertips from Steve's mouth and down her neck, trailing slowly down the side of her breast. She shivers, moaning, so he does it again. It wasn't a spot Clint had thought would be sensitive but Steve seems to be enjoying it.

 

She pants and presses her face into his neck. “I want to- oh God, I want to fuck you,” she says. Even when she was a man she had a hard time saying that word – it always seemed so vulgar – but if she’s being honest with herself, now isn’t the time for lovemaking.

 

Clint bucks up against Steve, trying to sit up but her body is heavy over his. "Fuck me," he whispers, desperate for it.

 

She doesn’t hesitate to grab for their lube, kept in the bedside table. She orders Clint to open his legs, and gasps in delight when she sees him hold his ankles.

 

“Just like that,” she whispers, kissing the side of his knee as she shoves two fingers inside roughly. Her fingers are a lot thinner now and Clint should probably take all four of them to equal the stretch of three of her fingers before the transformation.

 

"Oh my god," Clint says, pulling his legs further apart. "Oh my god, babe."

 

He can't think or speak, his head is so fuzzy. He can't remember the last time he was so turned on and he has to struggle to keep his eyes open. He gasps for breath, throwing his head back to stare at their headboard. Steve's fingers feel different, their width smaller, but they're about the same length. He hears Steve whispering to him but doesn't comprehend all of her words, only able to focus on the fingers in his ass and the way his dick is bobbing against his belly.

 

This is so much better than the first time she fingered him, and the only thing that’s changed is the fact that she has a cock now. This only further cements in her mind the fact that the team needs to capture Loki so he’ll change her back, but this isn’t such a bad thing to have in the meantime.

 

She slides her third finger in with ease and curls them into Clint’s prostate, and his cry is beautiful. She kisses his chest, tongues one of his nipples, and pushes those fingers in as deep as they can go, scissoring them apart to try and stretch Clint as quickly as possible because he needs it so bad.

 

"Come here," Clint begs, trying to get Steve closer to him.

 

She doesn't remove her fingers but does shuffle up the bed a little. Clint leans up and she expects a kiss, and gasps in surprise when he buries his face between her breasts. Clint drops his legs but keeps them spread, pushing down against her fingers. He wraps his arms around Steve, licking and biting at her breasts, nipping at the soft skin as hard as he dares.

 

“Ohgodohgodohgodohgod,” she babbles, her forehead hitting the pillow beside Clint’s head. Her fingers still for a moment, too startled by the electrifying, tingling sensation that the contact shoots right down between her thighs.

 

Clint moans, face still pushed between her ample breasts. He never thought he'd be here, doing this, but he finds himself enjoy it-if only because he's bringing Steve pleasure. It takes a second for Clint to realize that Steve's fingers have stopped but when he does he whines, the sound muffled against Steve's skin.

 

“Sorry,” she apologizes, turning more on her side and supporting herself on her elbow so Clint can continue while she slides her pinky inside her husband beside the rest. The stretch resembles what he’s used to so closely that he moans aloud.

 

“My beautiful husband,” she praises, kissing the side of his head as she stretches all four fingers inside him, driving them deep, right up to the knuckle and he’s so desperate that he almost sucks in the palm of her hand. “You need it so bad, god you need it.”

 

Clint takes one of Steve's nipples into his mouth and bites gently, nodding his head. "God Steve, need it-need you. You're so fucking perfect."

 

Steve shuffles down to the edge of the bed, and Clint whines again, so she grabs him by the legs and drags him with her. He moans out loud just from the display of strength, further proving that this really is Clint’s husband in a woman’s body.

 

She hooks her elbows under Clint’s knees and spreads his legs, his skin creaking on the leather jacket still draped over her body. It’s a little too big on her, but the symbolism is still there. They’ve had sex so many times in this jacket that Steve can hardly wear it outside without Clint grinning like a maniac.

 

She doesn’t even ask him if he’s ready, because she knows he is. The pressure on the strap that’s slid between her slick folds is exquisite upon the first push in, and Clint’s shout is stunning.

 

Clint is pretty sure the neighbors hear him when he shouts but he's all pretty sure he doesn't give a damn. Even though he and Steve have used dildos a few times since Steve's transformation, this is nothing like that; Clint's entire body is vibrating with need and he feels so _full_. He's tight around the dildo, the stretch giving him enough burn where it hurts but feels exquisite, and he feels the pleasure twang throughout his entire body.

 

"God!" Clint yells, shocked when he realizing he's sobbing a little. "Steve, babe-" he chokes on his words when Steve pulls out and thrusts back in again.

 

It’s so much better when she realizes that every thrust brings her pleasure, too. It’s not in the way she feels it when she was a man and it was her cock thrusting into him rather than a fake one, but damn does it feel good anyway.

 

Every time she slams home in Clint’s body, her pelvic bone grinds against the base of the strap-on, and the buzzing band crushes against her hypersensitive clit. She throws her head back with a loud cry as she feels everything from her clitoris to her anus tense up and flutter with pleasure.

 

“You take it so good,” she praises, tensing her abs so that her hips can drive forward a little more roughly.

 

Clint doesn't know what to do with his hands so he reaches down to grab hold of his cock, pumping it in time with Steve's thrusts. It almost feels too good, he's overwhelmed with sensaions and emotions he wants to laugh and cry at the same time. He never would have ended things with Steve just because the sex was mediocre, but this-this was what had been missing. Steve's powerful body thrusting into him and taking what was hers.

 

Clint gazed up at Steve and saw his husband-his WIFE-and thought about how beautiful she looked. Her confidence was back, eyes wide and glazed, lips open with sharp pants. Her breasts bounced with each thrust, the bomber jacket having slipped off one shoulder at some point when Clint wasn't looking. Steve's abs were tight and glistening with sweat, a sharp contrast against the soft curve of her hips and the roundness of her breast.

 

"Fuck," Clint said, hand stilling on his cock, "you're beautiful."

 

Steve almost stills, because the reverence in Clint’s eyes is real. She feels her eyes get hot and wet, but there’s no way she can cry through sex right now, not after she worked so hard to get Clint like this.

 

She suddenly releases one of his knees and pulls hard until he’s on his right side. She drapes his left knee over her shoulder and holds onto it hard with one hand. The cock twists inside Clint, churning him up in the most perfect way, and he shouts when she pounds it back into him. She throws her left knee up onto the bed beside him to get good leverage, and without a breath of hesitation, jackhammers the silicone dick into her husband.

 

Clint is wailing now, shouting off gibberish that isn't making any sense in his own ears. His entire body is moving in time with Steve's thrusts, cheek pressed against the sheet while he tries his hardest to keep breathing.

 

Now that he’s thoroughly distracted, she can let a couple tears slide down her face.

 

Clint hadn’t called her beautiful once ever since Loki did this to her. She’d been starting to worry that his lack of physical and sexual attraction to women really would make him not want to be in the relationship anymore, but now this is happening and she’s bursting with joy.

 

She lets go of her anxieties. Clint thinks she’s beautiful even like this. Even though she’s so different now. Even though she’s completely swapped genders, he still thinks she’s beautiful, and he’ll always love her even if they’re stuck like this forever.

 

Closed eyes, deep breath, she moans.

 

"I'm so close," Clint says, craning his neck to look at Steve. "Just-babe, touch me, please. I cant."

 

Clint's words are cut off when Steve thrusts in particularly hard, his body arching with it. She grabs his dick with vicelike strength in just the way he likes, and his head shoots back.

 

His loud declaration of pleasure brings her attention to her own mounting bliss. The vibrating strap is bringing her closer to her own orgasm with every thrust. She’s only had a handful ever since she turned into a woman, so the speed with which they come on startles her every single time. She jerks Clint’s cock faster to compensate, moaning as she feels it pulse in her hand. Clint tries grabbing for Steve but can't reach and growls angrily.

 

"I love you," Clint groans. "So perfect. You're fucking MINE."

 

“Come for me, darling, please,” she begs, because she’s so close now that she might just lose the ability to keep going once this is upon her. She can feel it swelling between her legs, like a balloon being overfilled, so ready to be her undoing.

 

That's all Clint needs; he comes, shouting so loudly it's echoing in his ears. Everything becomes hazy as he falls onto the mattress, boneless, unable to move. Steve is moaning and saying something but all Clint can do is reach back to hold onto her leg, telling her to keep going, to come.

 

She slides the dildo deep into him and holds it there while he comes, and uses that leverage to grind her clit against the buzzing strap. It takes only a few seconds of limbo before she’s coming right along after him.

 

It feels like her heat blooms open, like she’s spread out wide, and everything between her legs pulses as one. Her hips jerk forward and she keens. She grips Clint’s leg harder, nails digging in as she comes and comes.

 

When Steve goes still above him all Clint wants is for her to be in his arms. He struggles to move, to get into a more comfortable position, but Steve is heavy even in her female form. He must have said something because Steve is moving then, kissing his temple.

 

“I love you,” she whines, fumbling between her legs to hit the switch and stop the buzzing, because now she’s too raw. Her whole body aches from loosening up after tensing so hard, and she’s like jelly on top of Clint, breasts smushed between them as she kisses him and there are definitely tears now.

 

"Thank you," Clint says, holding her to him. She's still in his body and he's savoring the moment for as long as he can until she pulls out. He hasn't felt full for so long, hasn't felt this connection sexually to Steve since before she was changed.

 

“We’ll find Loki,” she promises him, kissing his eyelids. “But maybe now the wait in between won’t be so bad.”


End file.
